TV/Streaming

Guilty Pleasures: 50 Shades of Cliché

“Guilty Pleasures” (60 min.) premieres on the PBS series P. O.V. on Thursday, July 12 (check your local listings). The DVD is available for pre-order on the PBS website. It will stream on the POV’s website July 13-Aug. 12.

by Donald Liebenson

“Guilty Pleasures.” A documentary. About romance novels. She didn’t watch documentaries. She didn’t read romance novels. When she agreed to join him for what he called “movie night” (“I’ll show you something you’ve never seen,” he had said lasciviously), this is not what she signed up for. Her inner goddess yearned for a shirtless Ryan Gosling.

“Here,” she offered, unsnapping “Crazy Stupid Love” from its DVD case. Suddenly, like a coiled snake, he lunged, grabbed the disc from her trembling hand and flung it against the wall, sending it spinning, spinning.

Woody Allen: Manhattan Moviemaker Mystery

“Woody Allen: A Documentary” airs on PBS stations in two parts, at 9 p. m. Sunday and Monday, Nov. 20 and 21. Check local listings for airtimes. Also available via PBS On Demand.

by Odie Henderson

I took this gig as a challenge. It’s not that I hate Woody Allen; I just don’t adore him as much as you would like. Plus, I live in the Bizarro World when it comes to his films, enjoying the ones most people hate and vice-versa. For example, I hated “Match Point,” disliked “Annie Hall,” and could never commit to “Manhattan” despite its astonishing, heartbreaking cinematography. Conversely, I loved “Deconstructing Harry,” found “A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy” amusing, and I may be the only sane person who liked “Hollywood Ending.” These confessions may disturb die-hard fans, but before you vow never to read anything of mine again, you should watch American Masters’ “Woody Allen: A Documentary.” There you’ll discover that Woody Allen dislikes most of his movies, even going so far as to offer to make a different movie for free if United Artists used “Manhattan” for kindling. Compared to that, my “meh” reaction to the gorgeous-looking film is a ringing endorsement. We now know who should be getting your hate mail, don’t we?

Not that Allen would care. Robert B. Weide’s exceptional documentary makes clear that critical opinion is the farthest thing from its subject’s mind. The prolific writer-director has been too busy cranking out a film a year for the past four decades to worry about what anyone thinks of them. You’d have to go back to the studio system’s heyday for that kind of output, work that produced eleven solo and three collaborative Oscar nominations for writing. That’s two more than my beloved Billy Wilder, who coincidentally never got a solo writing nomination. Add to those fourteen writing nods his six directing nominations, sole acting nod and the resulting three wins, and you have one of the most honored filmmakers in Hollywood history. He can expect a 22nd nomination for “Midnight In Paris,” which I cop to liking but not with the slobbering praise afforded it by most critics. (It’s like a cross between Cliffs Notes, “The Purple Rose of Cairo” and a Tea Party rally, with all that “it’s so much better in the past” nonsense.) The fact that awards mortify Allen makes these numerous acknowledgements the kind of ironic, funny joke one would find in, well, a Woody Allen movie.

Indie Game: Super Meat Boy vs. Fez

“Indie Game: The Movie” (103 minutes) is available on iTunes on Demand, VHX Direct Download, Steam and directly from the filmmakers.

A debate that occasionally rages over at Roger Ebert’s Journal deals with whether video games can be considered art. Mr. Ebert does not believe so, and his belief has inspired numerous gamers to respond with fury. Some suggest titles that allegedly illustrate the artistic side of online games. Others suggest that a certain film critic is a crabby old man who need not concern himself with a more youthful pastime. Truthfully, I don’t give a crap about the “video games as art” argument; it’s an arts major argument and we science majors aren’t in the business of artful designation.

But the debate popped briefly into my head while watching “Indie Game: The Movie.” This smart, incisive documentary by Lisanne Pajot and James Swirsky follows four men who create online games they feel are extensions of themselves. One speaks of taking all his vulnerabilities and flaws and putting them into his games. Writers do that with novels, painters do it with an easel, and a lot of times, the result is considered art. “Indie Game” shows the creative process in making a game, including graphical design and the crafting of game plot and character. It’s like painting a picture and writing a short story, both valid art forms. This is certain to fuel the fires under this debate.

Return: It’s (not so) good to be home

“Return” (97 minutes) is available Feb. 28 via most major on-demand platforms including cable, satellite, iTunes and Amazon Instant.

When the most intense experiences of daily life are repeated across generations, they become the historical touchstones of our cultural identity. By natural progression they’re woven into our movies, where dreams and nightmares are etched in light.

The returning soldier (a subject previously examined here in the HBO documentary “How to Fold a Flag” and the 1956 Paul Newman drama “The Rack”) has been a mainstay in film since the earliest days of the silent era. When you consider upcoming changes in the ranks of the American military, more and more of those soldiers are now likely to be female. And since independent film is where social progress typically finds its earliest, least compromised expression, we’re now seeing more richly observant films like “Return,” a sensitively rendered drama that marks a promising debut for writer-director Liza Johnson, in rewarding collaboration with underrated actress Linda Cardellini.

Cardellini won hearts with her appealing role on the beloved, short-lived TV series “Freaks and Geeks” (1999-2000) and deepened her range over 126 episodes of “ER” (2003-09). She’s perfectly cast here as Kelli, a National Guard reservist and married mother of two. Still young but spiritually exhausted, she’s just returned home after what she later suggests was a routine deployment in the Middle East. Iraq or Afghanistan — it doesn’t matter which, and the movie never specifies. Either way, there’s no such thing as a routine deployment, and Kelli returns to her previous life in struggling, small-town Ohio, adrift in a state of neurasthenic limbo. War changes you, even if Kelli claims that “other people had it a lot worse.” Kelli may be suffering from some degree of PTSD, but she’s getting no apparent help from military counselors.

Larry Sanders: Changing television and changing lives

August, 2012, marks the 20th anniversary of the debut of “The Larry Sanders Show,” episodes of which are available on Netflix Instant, Amazon Instant, iTunes, and DVD. This is the third and final part of Edward Copeland’s extensive tribute to the show, including interviews with many of those involved in creating one of the best-loved comedies in television history. Part 1 (Ten Best Episodes) is here and Part 2 (The show behind the show) is here.

A related article about Bob Odenkirk and his characters, Stevie Grant and Saul Goodman (on “Breaking Bad”), is here.

by Edward Copeland

“It was an amazing experience,” said Jeffrey Tambor. “I come from the theater and it was very, very much approached like theater. It was rehearsed and Garry took a long, long time in casting and putting that particular unit together.” In a phone interview, Tambor talked about how Garry Shandling and his behind-the-scenes team selected the performers to play the characters, regulars and guest stars, on “The Larry Sanders Show” when it debuted 20 years ago. Shandling chose well throughout the series’ run and — from the veteran to the novice, the theater-trained acting teacher and character actor to the comedy troupe star in his most subtle role — they all tend to feel the way Tambor does: “It changed my career. It changed my life.”

Cab Calloway: The Hi-De-Ho Man

“Cab Calloway: Sketches” premieres at 10 p.m. ET/PT Monday, February 27 on PBS’s “American Masters” (check local listings), and PBS on demand after that.

When I was 10, I snuck into my first R-rated movie and caught my first glimpse of Cab Calloway. Mind you, I’d heard him numerous times, as my folks had “Minnie the Moocher” on a 45. But much like the young audience who flocked to “The Blues Brothers” in 1980, I’d never actually seen him before. Until his musical number, Calloway looked like a nice old man. But once the strains of “Minnie the Moocher” started playing, he became something astonishing. He was hypnotic, dressed to the nines, with dreamlike movements and straight hair he shook like no Black person I knew. He was delivered to me the size Cab Calloway should always be delivered: On a big movie screen. I was in awe. 31 years later, I attended a midnight screening of “The Blues Brothers” at the IFC Center in New York City. Despite my familiarity with Calloway’s appearance and his other movies, I had the same reaction to seeing him on the big screen. That film remains the only time I’ve seen him in those dimensions, and he’d lost none of his allure.

Calloway’s appearance in “The Blues Brothers” features in the final act of “Cab Calloway: Sketches,” Gail Levin’s documentary for PBS’s “American Masters.” Director John Landis and the Memphis musicians who made up the Blues Brothers band discuss their time with the self-proclaimed “Hi-De-Ho Man.” Steve Cropper, Donald “Duck” Dunn and Lou Marini speak of Calloway’s constant dapperness and the aura any living legend carries around. He told them stories, had a good time with the actors, and scared the hell out of his director during a recording session of the song Calloway pressed to vinyl in 1930. “Sketches” covers the origins of both Calloway and his leading lady, Minnie.

“Sketches” begins B.M., that is, before “Minnie the Moocher,” with Cab Calloway at the Savoy Ballroom in Harlem. The Savoy was where people went stompin’–it was the biggest Black dance club in town. They called it “The Land of Happy Feet.” If you played there, you’d arrived (at least to Black folks you had). Calloway appears with his band, the Alabamians, who, according to historian Gary Giddins, “had nothing to do with Alabama. ” Upon arrival, Cab and company got into a “Battle of the Bands” with Savoy favorites, The Missourians. “They got their asses beat, ” says Giddens, and Calloway, here in clips from an interview he conducted in his later years, seconds that notion. “But when the Missourians were looking for a new leader, they remembered me, ” says Calloway. His career immediately got a boost.

Stop making senses: An epidemic love story

“Perfect Sense” (89 minutes) is now available via IFC On Demand and can be rented or downloaded via iTunes, Amazon Instant Video, SundanceNOW, XBOX and PlayStation 3. The film will also begin a limited release in theaters on February 3rd.

by Jeff Shannon

The cause of the disease is unknown, and there is no cure. It could be a cluster of diseases, nobody knows for sure. The experts say it’s not contagious, but that’s just a futile ploy to prevent panic. It’s spreading throughout the world as a full-blown epidemic. The symptoms are brutal and unrelenting: Slowly but surely, your senses fall away — first you lose the sense of smell. Then taste, and eventually hearing…panic strikes you anyway, and the world around you ceases to make any kind of sense. How can you possibly survive the onslaught of sensory deprivation? What can you do when you’re overwhelmed by an escalating sense of infantile helplessness?

Welcome to the apocalypse of “Perfect Sense,” an imperfect yet deeply affecting film from David McKenzie, a British director who’s been quietly building a list of respectable credits (his latest is the rock ‘n roll comedy “You Instead”) since 1994. (He also regularly casts his actor brother Alastair, perhaps best known for his role in the popular BBC series “Monarch of the Glen.”) “Perfect Sense” was well-received at Sundance last year, but it’s not the kind of film that makes distributors see dollar signs in their eyes. It’s an actor’s showcase for Ewan McGregor and Eva Green, who meet the challenge head-on. Technically impressive and beautifully filmed (by Giles Nuttgens), quite frankly it’s too distinctive — choke on that, distributors! — to be easily pigeon-holed and marketed to the masses.

Billy the Kid, orphan outlaw

“American Experience: Billy the Kid” is available on demand at PBS.org after its January 10 broadcast at 9 p.m. (ET/PT). Check local listings.

Who hasn’t heard of Billy the Kid? He’s often portrayed in Westerns — sometimes as a blood-thirsty killer — but the PBS “American Experience” documentary “Billy the Kid” gives us a sympathetic portrayal of an orphan who “became the most wanted man of the west.” Instead of drama, blood, and lust in the dust, you’ll get a more multicultural view of a homeless kid gone wrong after being wronged.

The one-hour film, narrated by Michael Murphy, begins with a hangman’s noose. The date is April 28, 1881 and the 21-year-old man known as Billy the Kid is in the custody of Sheriff Pat Garrett. He escapes his appointment with the hangman, but he won’t be alive much longer.